


In Loving Memory

by dorkpatroller



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Despite the title and these tags, Grief/Mourning, Hanahaki Disease, I promise, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Time Skip, ashe is a good boy, mercedes just did her best, no one dies, the “bad hanahaki ending”
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-18 18:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21281537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkpatroller/pseuds/dorkpatroller
Summary: When Dedue returned to join Dimitri and his army, he was hoping to be reunited with Ashe as well. He was, but it wasn’t quite the same. Now Dedue doesn’t know what the next step forward is.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 20
Kudos: 115





	In Loving Memory

Even in times like this, when everything feels hopeless, the methodical thud of the knife against the wooden cutting board feels soothing. Cooking gives him a chance to clear his mind. Usually, the act stirs up memories of his family standing at the counter together. It’s an old wound, so the memory makes him smile. Lately, however, it brings a different set of memories bubbling to the surface. 

Images of Ashe as he remembers him (shorter, younger, less broken by war) stir behind his eyes. Images of him cooking alongside Dedue, those minty eyes flittering up to watch him--always turning away with roses blooming on his cheeks when he was caught staring. Those memories hurt more. Perhaps it’s because, although Ashe is alive, it’s as if they didn’t even happen. 

They never snuck into the kitchen to bake at three in the morning.

They never grew a patch of violets. Dedue never presented Ashe with a pot of them for his room. Ashe never tucked one behind Dedue’s ear. 

Ashe never pulled him aside to tell him “something important,” just before Edeglard’s army marched on Garreg Mach and interrupted him. Dedue knows now that Ashe wanted to tell him he loves him. 

Loved him. 

Dedue loves Ashe too. He wonders why it happened to Ashe, and not to himself. He thinks he could have carried on even with the disease. He thinks a part of him would have seen a beauty in the flowers and let them spur him on so that he would one day soon see Ashe again. It was Ashe who suffered, however. Ashe was the one plagued with petals in his throat, roots curling up inside of his lungs and choking out the air. 

_ I’m so sorry, Dedue.  _ Mercedes came to him in tears. Dedue thought she would say Ashe hit his head in battle, it was a case of amnesia. When they were reunited Dedue took Ashe aside to tell him how deeply he’d missed him, how glad he was to see he was safe. Ashe tilted his head to the side, his eyes foggy and confused, and he asked, “Have we met?” 

Mercedes told Dedue that Ashe came to their reunion coughing up petals and praying to be reunited with Dedue to tell him how he felt. That he was in love with him. He’d been waiting for five long years, coping with the disease as it chased the breath from his lungs. Dimitri told them what he thought to be true: that Dedue had perished. 

_ Ashe wouldn’t believe it.  _ Mercedes had whispered.  _ He said it couldn’t be true, and he kept on the way things were.  _ She told him of a time when Ashe came to her, choking, but then collapsed in her arms. He clung to her sleeves and wheezed and hacked and gagged. She pounded on his back, she tried to use magic, and finally, mercifully, the flowers dislodged themselves.  _ He was hysterical, so afraid of forgetting. I begged him to let me remove the flowers. I convinced him that you wouldn’t want him to die like this. It was my fault. I’m so sorry, Dedue.  _

If she only knew that they would be reunited mere hours later, at Myrddin. Maybe she wouldn’t have done it. None of it matters, of course. Dedue doesn’t fault her. She’s right, she did the right thing. She kept Ashe alive. He owes her an endless debt of gratitude for that. 

Mercedes removed the flowers from Ashe’s chest with magic, and in repercussion removed the memories Ashe had of Dedue entirely. An odd curse to bear, and nearly unbelievable… if not for the way that Ashe looked at Dedue like a stranger that day. 

Footsteps in the doorway have Dedue looking up from his work. Ashe knocks on the frame but then hugs his arms around himself. “I, uh… May I join you?” 

“By all means,” Dedue croaks. He hopes his eyes aren’t rimmed as red as they feel. 

Ashe is gorgeous now. He’s not the same boy from Dedue’s memories, but he’s the same person. He’s grown handsome and lean and his smile is still heart-stopping. He isn’t smiling now, unfortunately. He walks close to the stove, where Dedue has a pot steaming, and he hoists himself to sit on the counter just next to it. “What are you cooking? It smells amazing.” 

Ashe looks so painfully familiar there, eyeing the pot, that Dedue nearly forgets all of it. For that moment he’s transported to a time when Ashe would turn those eyes up to him and it was so obvious that he had feelings for Dedue. Why didn’t Dedue ever tell him he felt the same? Maybe all of this would have been prevented. Even so, the sight of him perched on the counter brings the smallest smile to his lips. “A stew from Duscur. It is a favorite comfort food of mine.” 

“Oh,” Ashe hums... It’s so soft. It rings in Dedue’s ears. It’s the same. He’s the same man, he’s just missing a part of their history. “I don’t think I’ve tried cuisine from Duscur before.” 

Any hint of a smile on Dedue’s face dies, and Ashe’s smile withers a second later. He looks away and folds his hands in his lap. “I could be mistaken, though. M-Mercedes told me…” 

Dedue’s throat burns. It aches like he wants to cry. He clears it. “Mercedes told you what?” 

“E-Everything.” Ashe lets the word hang between them. Dedue’s chest feels so tight it might smother his heart. He looks down at the vegetables he was cutting… and to distract from the conversation he scoops them into the pot. He doesn’t know what he’s meant to say. Eventually, after a dreadful silence, Ashe goes on in a hush. “I came here… W-Well I came here to say that I’m… I’m sorry for your loss.” 

_ I’m sorry for your loss.  _ As if Ashe had died, but he hasn’t. He’s right there in front of Dedue. Closer, much closer than Dedue intended, but at that moment it’s like he’s magnetically drawn to stand close enough to hear Ashe’s whispered words. He doesn’t seem to mind. He may not remember Dedue, but he doesn’t act nervous or afraid of him. In fact, he spreads his knees slightly, accommodates the fact that Dedue is standing too close. He keeps his hands in his lap. 

Does Ashe see him as a stranger? How can he? He’s letting Dedue stand closer, closer still until he drops his forehead against Dedue’s chest. Goddess above, the heat of his head tucked there is so wonderfully calming. It’s exactly what he used to do when he was tired or too lost for words to talk about his father or his brother or his feelings. 

“I tried to remember,” Ashe rasps the first word, but his voice grows in volume as he goes on until it’s just a lonely mumble into the fabric of Dedue’s shirt. “She told me everything she knew, and nothing sounded familiar at all. When I look at you I don’t… W-Well you’re handsome, but I’m not in love, and I can’t seem to bring it back.” 

Dedue is quiet. He could speak, he could soothe him, but if he were to try he’s sure his voice would be soggy with the tears he’s blinking back. One, and then another, slips down towards his jaw. “I’m sorry, Dedue,” Ashe eventually says. He leans back, tilts his head up, and he looks startled by the tears he caused. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

Dedue watches the familiar lift of his arms. Warm and inviting, he pulls Dedue forward and hugs him close. He squeezes his arms around his neck and he casually, loosely, crosses his ankles behind Dedue’s back. He hugs Dedue with every bit of him. 

  
Dedue should have been assuring him there’s no need to apologize, but he takes a few seconds to be selfish. He squeezes Ashe in that embrace. His voice sounds so far away, even though it’s right next to Dedue’s ear when he says “I’m so sorry.” 

When he leans out of the hug, Dedue finds that he feels like something is ending. Everything is coming to a close. Ashe never did get to tell Dedue that he loved him, but just now he was able to say that he doesn’t. Dedue swallows a knot forming in his throat. “You have nothing to apologize for. That you are alive and well is what matters most to me.” 

“Thank you,” Ashe says. Dedue stirs the pot on the stove. Ashe watches the spices whirl around in the broth. This is the proper resolution. Even still, Ashe goes on to say one more thing. “Will you teach me?” 

“I’m sorry?” Dedue asks, completely baffled. Teach him what? Certainly not the memories they shared. But Ashe glances at the pot and then back at Dedue’s eyes, and his breath leaves him as he understands. “The stew?” 

“My parents taught me to cook. I’m quite good. I think it might be nice to learn how to cook new things, though… and I want to get to know you. Is that… alright?” 

The tiniest smile comes to Dedue’s lips. Just a tug at the corner of his mouth, but then when Ashe sees that smile his own smile blossoms. The wilted flowers in Dedue’s heart start to bloom again. “I will teach you,” He says, finally. Ashe stares at him, and Dedue holds his gaze until Ashe blinks a few times in succession and looks back at the pot to hide a blush. 

The memories Dedue has of his family are long over. They’re dead. He can remember them only through those memories. The memories of Ashe when he was young, hanging off of his arm to hide from ghosts, are in the past, but Ashe is not dead. He’s here, with his darling freckles and his long lashes hiding a shy glimpse back towards Dedue to see if he’s still staring at him. 

They have time to make new memories.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter @dorkpatroller


End file.
